Zanzibar: A Spicy History of Trade and Travel

With no less than eleven Sultans, a Portuguese period, a brief British barrage, the ominous Ottoman Empire, a bloody independence coup and a tenuous agreement with Tanganyika forming the United Republic of Tanzania, the indigenous inhabitants of Zanzibar have been shaped culturally, politically and economically by the dubious human nature of trade and travel since the first millenia when African Bantu-speakers arrived on the island archipelago. The "spice islands" are legendary and are comprised of two large islands, Unguja (the Swahili name for the island more often called Zanzibar) and Pemba, as well as numerous satellite islands that surround the two giants making up the Zanzibar Archipelago. We travelled to Unguja only, which I will refer to as Zanzibar, and stayed in Zanzibar Town and more specifically in Old Stone Town (a UNESCO World Heritage Site comprised of the cultural and historical "soul" of Zanzibar).

It is fair to attempt to address the archipelago's human history, although it is impossible to to it any justice within the confines of an electronic and sporadic blog. The history fills volumes. The islands are separated by as little as 15 miles and as much as 30 miles from mainland Africa and the watery passage through the Indian Ocean was crossed nearly 20,000 years ago by tribes believed to be of primarily of Bantu origin. Little is known of the livelihoods and establishments made prior to the onset of trade and travel with first started with Arabian and Persian traders arrival in full force as early as the 8th century. Unguja (Zanzibar) is home to a convenient natural port, defensible and providing good anchorage, located in the present-day "Stone Town" district in Zanzibar Town. It would take a bit of time but by the 12th to 15th century, settlements established and the Arabian-Persian Gulf trade networks booming, Zanzibar experienced unprecedented trade and activity. As a powerful city-state Zanzibar exported slaves, gold, ivory and wood to distant ports in India and Asia while importing glasses, spices, textiles and Islam. The latter list is oddly what the islands are known for today. Along with this infusion of activity, ideals and people developed the present-day Islamic architecture (which famously is showcased in Stone Town), the creation of a language (Swahili) and establishment of spice-based economy.

As the age of exploration fired up in Europe the Portuguese took hold of the islands in a brief interruption of Arabian rule during the 16th century. They would have little long term affect on the islands, although one can see Portuguese cannons, there are vestiges of Portuguese influences in some Swahili words and the introduction of card-playing. The first Europeans only held the islands for about 200 years before the Sultanate of Oman took hold of the islands and established a powerful economy of cash crops, trade of mainland African goods and human slaves to Arab elites. The slaves were not only exported but also utilized on the plantations extensively to build the Islamic-based empire which would sow the seeds of discontent years to come. In 1890 the British took a precarious role, forming a protectorate out of Zanzibar, taking a management role while not ousting the Sultans outright. A sultan death and unfavorable succession lead to a brief skirmish in 1896 known as the Anglo-Zanzibar War which, lets just say, with a duration of 38 minutes it holds the record as the shortest war in history. The British did, in their brief history, push for the abolishment of slavery and the slave trade on the island and in 1963 the islands gained their independence and formed a constitutional monarchy.

However, independence did not mean that the formal economically entrenched colonist would flee their lives and businesses. It took no less than a month and little more than three hours before a mere 300-600 armed and organized Zanzibari rebels under the guidance of "Field Marshall" John Okello over-ran the Zanzibar police and seized control of prime bureaucratic structures in Old Stone Town. What followed was a bloody genocide which killed between 5,000 and 12,000 Arab and Asian immigrants, stripped another several thousand Indian and Arab business owners of their lands, homes and businesses and rid the island of its last Sultan. By April the island archipelago was consumed by a much larger mainland former colony, Tanganyika, to create the Republic of Tanzania. Zanzibar still enjoys relative autonomy in the contemporary arrangement.

So that is one spicy history of trade and travel but what about contemporary Zanzibar? Spices are still important with Zanzibar holding its lion share of the clove market and also still producing a healthy portion of nutmeg, pepper and cinnamon. By far, however, the number one foreign currency earner is tourism. Zanzibar has a little bit of everything for a traveler, white sand beaches, historical stone town, spice and plantation tours, local fanfare and nice shopping and a pretty cool little wildlife park where the "friendly monkeys" run the show. It also, like every place where tourist flock, has it share of headaches, hassles and con-men.

Ben and I arrived a bit road wary, having taken a bus from Kampala, Uganda to Arusha, Tanzania via Kenya and having dealt with all that happens at the borders, on the over-crowded buses and the pushy touts. We had spent well over 22 hours on that bus and faced another grizzly ride from Arusha to the coast, so we did what our backs, our backsides and our patience would allow....took a plane. It was amazing to see Tanzania pass under an almost cloudless sky from Arusha, home of Mt. Meru, to the coast. We saw multiple dirt devils, twisting the eroded featureless grasslands, we saw the tale-tale signs of irrigated farmlands (a green splash on a dusty brown moonscape) and the Rift Valley which soon gave way to large coastal towns such as Dar Salaam. One we checked into our hotel in the winding narrow streets of Stone Town we tended to needs such as food and a haircut for Ben. We quite often satisfied our hunger in the afternoon hours down on the sea shore, where vendors fried, boiled and grilled everything you could imagine from the sea. Fishermen, among the dizzying noise of fish sizzle on fire, crowds wheeling-n-dealing and shouts of advertisement to the family table, served up a variety of fish, shark, octopus, squid and compliments of chapati, vegetables and baked sweets. We splurged a few times and visited local restaurants, varying from Indian, Swahili, Sea Food to Asian, always with the same results...some of the best food we were to enjoy on our trip. From spiced coffees, Swahili sweet cakes (hawa), Tsatsiki, and Indian Marsala dishes to road-side roasted octopus, the food rivals some of the best I have had in my traveling experience (with none of the travelers regret in the bathroom the next day). Strolling back from our night excursion, we found a rather empty local "barber shop" with about four Zanzibari youth, stylishly clad in baggy jeans and hip-hop T's smiling inside..."Haircut for 4,000 Shillings ($3.50 USD)?" Sure why not. It was very interesting, Ben got the haircut of a lifetime, the care and precision I have never before witnessed, and I got to sit on the stairs among the Americana poster clad shop (sports heroes, rap singers looking on) and chat with three very nice young Zanzibari men. We talked about America, where we were from, how we found Zanzibar and did I know Lebron James (after all he is from Ohio). I really enjoyed my days winding through these streets of sweet eats, touts, and shopkeepers.

Old Stone Town itself is a labyrinth of smells, sights, shops and homes in various states of decay. The streets cobbled and generally too narrow for cars, with the exception of one street which a single car will race pass narrowly missing pedestrians, bicycles, good laden carts and barely squeezing onto someones porch to allow a car to pass the other way, wound in no particular pattern through the town. They have maps available but it is much more desirable to wander aimlessly knowing that you will either hit the sea or the major road and market, both of which signal Stone Town's end. All women from Zanzibar are dressed hair covered in Islamic fashion with a hijab (scarf loosely covering the hair and wrapping under the chin), with a few electing to wear the burka (full face, hands and body covering), and men also varying in their wear from simply a Sunni Islamic hat to the full robe. I would want no one to think that this is not a tolerant group of people however, there were many a scantily clad tourists walking around, oblivious to local sensitivities.

We decided that we would take a trip to the interior of the island to visit the famed "Jozani Forest Reserve," so we jumped in the back of a local covered transport truck. It was our first trip to see the rest of Zanzibar's urban area and pass into the rural areas, once covered in plantations. The trip itself was adventuresome, we passed a large painting of a pathetic and patriotic looking Saddam Hussein after his capture, we passed crowded markets of people bartering for clothing for the children as required by upcoming Ramadan. And of course the one man that knew any English on the overcrowded truck, wanted us to pay for his fare...hmm. The whole time we are unsure of whether the truck knows where we wanted to go and wondering if we know where to jump off.

The Jozani Forest Reserve is the only place you can see the endemic Red Colobus Monkeys, also known as the "friendly monkeys." Hunting has not played a part in their recent population demise, the locals consider them poison to eat which may well be true due to the fact that they consume large amounts of leaves and excrete a lot of methane, instead habitat loss has been severe with the small Jozani Forest the last forest island within this island that used to be forested throughout much of its low lying interior. The forest has been protected since 1952 but not until 1960 was the Jozani Chwaka Bay Conservation Area recognized by the government and protected significantly. Our guide told us of the long history of relations with the surrounding communities, although not hunting the monkeys for meat would often sell them and the Blue velvet monkeys as pets, hunt for the Ader's duiker and depend on the last remaining forest for timber, nuts and agroforestry needs. The endemic Zanzibari Leopard, which crossed over from mainland Africa during the last ice age, is almost extinct. The communities surrounding the park are currently very supportive, those little friendly monkeys, which are not as pesky as pantry raiding vervets or baboons, mean tourist dollars. And at least for now, those tourist dollars are filtering down to the community. They are truly unafraid of humans and park officials have their hands full trying to keep less respectful tourist from touching the habitualized monkeys. We saw one large group across the road, feeding on the leaves flushing on a large grove of almond trees. Young, old, male and female went about their daily feeding, grooming, playing and posturing only feet away from their pallid wide eyed visitors and the familiar faces of the Zanzibari park guides.

After the success of our independent trip to Jozani we decided to splurge on a "Spice Tour" with a local tourist agency. I must say it was enjoyable but at $75 it was the first time we looked at each other at the end of the day and had to admit we had been taken (or at least have now been in the area long enough to know that we had been taken). We got to see many of the spices that the island's plantations, slavery and economics were and are based on. Having served in the Peace Corps and Ben having been an "agroforestry advisor" we were advanced pupils and our guide was often disappointed when we knew plants, harvesting and processing techniques and market information. We were also able to pose questions about the impact the spices have had on the local economy and subsistence agriculture. Spices and commodity agriculture is a fickle business, with often high inputs of land, labor and resources and variable returns. No surprises there.

After a week in Zanzibar, it was time to move on and so began our epic "Fight to the Ferry." Zanzibar is known for its aggressive and down-right awful touts and until we ventured down to the Ferry to buy tickets and returned the next day to board the ferry to Dar Salaam, I thought their reputation a bit exaggerated. Sure we had the CD-tape guy follow us down the street singing "Jambo, jambo bwana, Habari gani, Misiri Sana...(this "authentic" Swahili music is pretty much a rambling of commonly known Swahili phrases..we didn't purchase one), sure we had the touts try and take us to restaurants which jacks up the price and sure we had vendors on the street aggressively trying to sell everything (including drugs). No thanks to everyone! But the ferry touts were almost militaristic and criminal, grabbing, screaming and pulling. We had to practically sprint from our taxi, which had touts running and pounding on the trunk, to the ticket counter where we had to be let into the office screaming, "NO BODY HERE HAS HELPED US! THEY GET NO MONEY!" You see these nice gentlemen will hound and pull and push you as you travel to an already well marked destination and then expect a commission at the ticket counter (which the officials pay) effectively driving up you ticket price 2 or 3 times face value. Eventually the officials closed the doors and windows to complete a fair transaction. The next day we returned with our bags exploding with gifts, our clothes and the like, and loaded up and sprinted like over weighted front linesmen..knocking aside those that would pull and grab our bags and "kindly" help us to the ferry for a price. Ah, traveling its so grand. It was a beautiful trip , warm and sunny, comfortable and scenic as we left the exotic cultural infusion that is Zanzibar and headed towards the Tanzanian coast. Customary fishing boats sprinkled the turquoise-blue waters, Ben didn't feel sea sick and I saw dolphins in the distance, you couldn't ask for a better return from an almost mythical place to the large urban town of Dar Salaam.

-Jessica

Cultivation and Canoes: Adventures in Lake Bunyonyi

We continued heading south in Uganda, the land of rolling hills and crater lakes, to the famed and beautiful Lake Bunyonyi. Lake Bunyonyi is a large lake with 29 small islands which historically where not islands at all but the tops of hills found in the mountainous area which forms the border between Rwanda and Uganda. The area, once a riverine wetland, was altered when a volcanic eruption blocked the outflow and flooded the valley areas creating a network of "islands" within this new "lake." The lake itself lies at 1,962 meters above sea level and is about 25 kilometers by 7 kilometers wide. Average depth is a bit murky (as is the water), but is "guess-timated" at anywhere from 44 to 900 meters. Most of the islands have been occupied for the last 200 years, at least intermittently, and this is visually evident by the intensely cultivated and terraced slopes that are present on all the islands. In the local dialect Bunyonyi roughly translates into "Place of many small birds." Given the ornithological inclinations of my husband I wondered would this place translate for me as "Place where the husbands go missing?"

We decided to join a canoe trekking trip, a new tourism venture only offered once a month by the a group called Edrisa. I don't know exactly how to describe Edrisa, it seems a conglomerate of various efforts, the group has a guest house in Kabale, volunteer positions in education with a Bunyonyi's primary school, some fair trade projects and other various projects to help surrounding communities. It is an NGO that has taken the a self-efficient look at the bottom line and set itself up with profitable business ventures to sustainably fund their charitable efforts. For them, not depending on handouts and fickle grants and funds means that the schools and programs they are funding have a stability that many lack. It really is an interesting venture and I would encourage you to check it out on the web at http://www.edirisa.org. (Photograph is Benjamin and Warren tour manager for Edirisa overlooking Kabale) In addition to providing an amazing service to the peoples of southern Uganda, the primary school they took over has gone from one of the poorest and worst performing to the third best in the district, they provide a great service to consumers as well. The canoe trek was amazing, off the beaten track and we got a chance to stay with local families, dine on local cuisine (goat and matooke anyone?) and throw back a couple thick gulps of "sorghum porridge." But I am getting a bit ahead of myself.....

The canoe trek itself started on August 24th and ended on the 26th... so it was a very interesting way for me to turn 28, our madden voyage on the dugout canoes into the terraced hills of southern Uganda. We packed small bags, and meeting up with seven other participants (all of them volunteers for one agency or another in Uganda) we headed up to "The heart of Edirisa" a small primary school where we would launch our canoes and begin a trek into what has been called the most beautiful of the crater lakes in southern Uganda. If Churchill called Uganda his "pearl," Lake Bunyonyi proved to be the "mother of pearl." The children at Edirisa performed several dances, keeping rhythm on a cattle-hide drum, the boys and girls both shy, with eyes wondering to avoid looking at the spectators, and ebullient at the same time. I have no photographs although it is one of the most powerful images in my mind of east Africa. After the performance we loaded the long dugout canoes, able to easily accommodate five people and supplies, and headed into a lake of both "small birds" and rich human history.

We paddled our canoes, the best one can when almost everyone but the guide is already snapping photographs, heading towards Bushara Island where yes indeed, we grabbed a beverage and saw some small birds. Warren our guide was very knowledgeable and we walked around the small island as he showed us some medicinal plants used by many southern Ugandans. Some plants had some very practical applications including leaves that when eaten would suppress hunger, very practical for many pastoralists away to graze cattle for long periods of time, in addition to one plant used by pubescent girls to "develop" or enhance and elongate a certain private part in their nether-regions.....hmm. (Warren's entrepreneur kicked in as he questioned the girls in the group about its potential for marketing in western countries...enough said.)

We also saw the infamous Akampene or "Punishment Island," a small jejune island with only one tree, where pregnant unmarried girls used to be dumped off to die as punishment for their iniquity. We were told that the girls would usually drown trying to swim to another island (as many Africans-even those living on a lake-don't know how to swim) and it was particularly gruesome because sometimes the girls would also grab their brothers or fathers, as they tried to dump them off, and several members of the family would perish. The girls only hope was that a poor young farmer, without the cattle or bride price to marry, would come and "rescue" the girl to become a free bride. The practice was only abandoned in the mid 1900's when it became seen as a bit draconian.

After the unnerving tales of Akampene we headed to a much larger island called Bwama island, where the famous Ugandan cattle, some of which would make a Texas longhorn blush, greeted us. The island was "depopulated" when a Scottish physician set up a Leprosy Treatment Center in 1921. At its height the clinic housed 5,000 patients from all over East Africa and remained open until the 1980s when a drug was developed and patients no longer needed isolation to prevent spread. Now the a few villagers have returned and the well grounds have been converted into a boarding school for primary and secondary students in the area. School was out of session during our visitation, leaving way more cattle than people on this island.

We continued on our way and reached our final destination after some of the group took advantage of swimming in the bilharzia free waters under the watchful eye of a local group of children. Our hostess greeted us with genuine enthusiasm and pulled me up a steep embankment and locked me up in a bear-hug leaving my feet dangling and head pressed against her colorful kanga. Not a single person in the family spoke English or Swahili. Our group went about setting up tents among the scores of interested children, adolescents and goats, while our hosts went about fixing dinner. Foreigners or "mzungus" are still of great interest to the children and they were transfixed by their pallid visitors and particularly digital cameras. We all climbed a steep hill to view the school/ church grounds that was providing primary education to over 200 students. The teacher, one of only 3 or 4, was explaining the dilapidated conditions and struggle that the community has in providing the children with education. Many times, he said, the overcrowded and hot class rooms must move under the mango tree to conduct classes. Certainly not an ideal situation but I also told him that well trained teachers can teach and inspire students in any situation and locally built infrastructure does not mean inferior education. How teachers can deal with 50-60+ children is an entirely different issue. We descending the steep gradient towards the house to ready for a filling meal including goat, sweet potato and porridge. The host family asked me to snap a photograph of their family, three generations, and I hurried to set up the shot as the sun drowned behind us. They were incredibly generous people and my only regret was the sizable language barrier which left most of us with crude gestures and dependent on our guides to translate.

The next day we embarked on a full day trek up to the highest peak in the area, Karembe (mountain? hill?....felt more like mountain) which is about 8,130 feet above see level. Up was of the fast and furious venture, the steep rocky path overlooking the border with Rwanda. The area is inhabited by several tribes, the most famous are the Batwa tribe (also known as "pygmies") and lesser known Bakiga. Our guides explained to us how many Bakiga benefited during the genocides in Rwanda by subjugating the Batwa to carry goods raided from the abandoned gardens and forests over the hill. The Batwa, however short their stature, are renowned as being exceptionally strong and able to carry 100 kilograms for long distances. We saw several Batwa men carrying bags filled with agricultural products that looked twice their size and it became little wonder that these people have been exploited as porters. As we reached the top and crossed the hill, the views were as breathtaking as the climb.

We had lunch at the top of the hill with a commanding view of the terraced islands of Lake Bunyonyi. We also could see Mt.Muhabura, one of the extinct volcanoes of the Varunga mountain range in Rwanda. We finished our lunch and proceeded to "relax" atop the bald hill, void of all shade, chatting and enjoying the beautiful view. Unfortunately this proved problematic latter on as our group began feeling parched and greedily consumed our water supply with several kilometers left to go. The day became long, hot and dusty. The villagers still regarding us with curiosity send children yelling, "Mzungu! Mzungu!" and toddlers crying. Once interesting stop resulted in an impromptu dancing and singing session. It was amazing but all most of the sun-burnt mzungu could do was watch with interest clinging to the few thorn-clad bushes which provided sparse shade. The descent was my least favorite part, long and gruelling it felt as if we would never reach the lake shore again. Once we did, our group had actually broke a record and arrived early which equated to the boats not being at shore. Nearby, Habukomi island was to be our sleeping grounds for the night. Inhabited by just one family, the Edirisa staff had taken the gear earlier that morning and where still on the island. As we waited we watched many of the lake's bird species heading for their night roost. It was a sanguine end to a wonderful yet challenging day.

Arriving on the island at night we saw that the human population was surpassed, at night, by the African crown-crane population. These regal birds were roosting in the trees and walking around the manicured grazing grounds for the few livestock on the island. Sorghum, goats, small crops (maize) and one homestead was the sole evidence of human habitation. We pitched our tents, ate our goat and motoke, swigs of fermented sorghum, our tired bones went to sleep for the night. Our last day we woke early, summited the small isle and were greeted by a green mamba (very poisonous snake) which, sleek and without malice or hesitation, exited the accidental human corral smoothly and at close proximity to our fellow travelers. We continued on canoes, to an island set up for those who wanted a bit more comfort than a tent and had an amazing meal. The group talked, non-stop almost creating a white noise of human laughter and bird-like chatter, the beer was good (cold) and the food was amazing. The birds were abundant and we even spotted an otter. An amazing trip, great company and one more reason why Uganda is truly a hidden treasure in East Africa.

-Jessica (firmly in her late 20's)

The 3 R's: Rest, Relaxation, & Road Travel: Fort Portal & Lake Nyabikere, Uganda

(Preliminary Note: The initial photos do not follow the text - try not to get lost!)

After doing all of our laundry, walking around, and generally loitering around Kampala for a couple of days we resolved to try our luck at getting hold of chimpanzee tracking permits and head east to Fort Portal, the staging post for trips to crater lakes and Kibale National Park. That morning we split up - me packing the bags, the tent, and getting ready for departure, and Jessica headed out for an adventure of her own. She took a boda-boda (motorcycle taxi) to the other end of town to snag two recently canceled chimpanzee tracking permits at the Uganda Wildlife Authority office.

She told the driver where she needed to go and hung on for what soon came to be a ride she will never forget. They got downtown and started weaving through the traffic and winding streets when the driver asked her where the UWA office was. Apparently he did not know their destination, but of course was not going to say so and pass up a passenger. Jess had not taken the map with her, and Kampala being such a sprawled out city over numerous hills simply could not remember where exactly it was either. Well, eventually they reached the UWA office and she returned on the same boda-boda with an expression I will not soon forget. She was tired but had a great time.


So, we ate an early lunch and then headed down to the madhouse that is the new taxi park and bus station at the bottom (see previous blog for photo) of the hill from where we were staying. The bus that we wanted to take had not arrived yet and the ticket counter was not issuing tickets in advance. So, when the bus finally showed up the front of the ticket window was a chaotic orgy of elbows and people all wanting tickets at the same time. I stayed back and "guarded the bags" while Jess joined the fray, inching slowly towards the small window but still being crowded out by so many other people. Another muzungu (Anya, a woman from Slovenia who also was traveling with a guy "guarding" their bags) eventually pushed her way with Jessica to the front and got tickets for all of us. Having hauled out packs onto the bus and negotiated getting seats (which is not an easy task) we headed out of Kampala towards Fort Portal.

For Portal is a small town in Western Uganda that serves as the main commercial post for the Toro Kingdom and the Kabarole District. For tourists, it serves as the main launching point to the surrounding crater lakes and national parks. We arrived after dusk and made our way to the Continental Hotel. We settled in, had a descent and inexpensive meal and a couple beers with Anya and Domen and talked about their trip to Ethiopia and their home country of Slovenia.

The next day the four of us decided to go together to Lake Nyabikere, one of the area's many crater lakes, to spend a couple of days relaxing and exploring. We made our way to the small shared taxi park a few hundred meters away down the main road and chose the only matatu (14 passenger minivan) going where we wanted. We spent the next half an hour circling town looking for passengers as these vehicles do not leave on their route until the inside of the vehicle can give stiff competition with clown cars at a circus as to how many people they can cram in at one time. We had (no lie) 27 people in the vehicle at one point - with all of their stuff like chickens, bags of sweet potatoes, and hand bags. Comfy!

It took less than an hour to reach Lake Nyabikere 20km south of Fort Portal . We settled into the nice, friendly run CVK Resort, and hung out for the day, relaxing around the lake and spotting red-tailed monkeys and doing some light bird watching. The next day we took a walk around the lake, disturbed only for a short time by intermittent showers. This was an adventure in and of itself.

The lake is so small that you really can't get lost in the surrounding area. However, there are so many paths and winding roads with no signs that negotiating a circuitous route became a fun afternoon. Half way through the walk we came upon a small hamlet at the top of a hill and were greeted by a young girl who was more than eager to help us find our way. So, we let her take us around and through gardens and lightly forested areas, stopping on occasion to look at birds. A couple of her friends tagged along and where mostly curious in the muzungu. It was a pleasant walk, but (of course) when it came to an end at the main road they all demanded money for guiding us around. So, a little peeved, but understanding, we parted with some small change and continued on our way.

On the third day at the Lake the four of us took a long walk down the road south towards Kibale National Park (only 12km away) on information that a couple of chimpanzees were spotted on consecutive days in the top of a fruiting fig tree 10m off the road about an hour and a half walk away. The walk was beautiful. We went by large tea plantations, saw elephant foot prints along the road, took way too many photos of butterflies gathered in groups at the roads edge, and saw a couple new bird species - including a crested hornbill. We soon found ourselves walking in a more forested area and it was obvious that we were approaching Kibale National Park. Off in the distance on our right we heard a troop of chimpanzees on the hunt. It was amazing yet eerie to think that so intelligent and powerful animals were alive and well and on the hunt not too far from where we stood. It did, however, unsettle some red-tailed monkeys that were gathered in the trees above us, and they soon began acrobatic leaps across the road to avoid any change of clashing with the chimps. We never did get to see chimps that day, but we certainly were aware of their presence.
As the day wound on and the light began fading we hopped in the back of a maize truck headed back up to the CVK and the lake for one more night of good sleep, hot showers, and some cold beer. The next day, the four of us packed up, ate breakfast, and then headed south again along the same stretch of road in the back of a truck. We said goodbye to Anya and Domen at the gate to Kibale National Park where we were to spend a couple of days and do some chimp tracking. I think Jess and I will try to meet up with them again, and they have done some campaigning to get us to come check out Slovakia (I mean Slovenia).

Of Kinship and Forests Kibale National Park, Uganda

After a few excursions on foot from Lake Nyabikere, one of which Ben and I headed to the entrance of Kibale forest with new found Slovenian friends, we headed in earnest to Uganda's Kibale National Park. The park is nestled in mature forest area at an altitude of 1200 meters with a surrounding agricultural matrix of tea, bananas and rolling hills found in this crater lake region of the south. Kibale National Park is a bit of a primatologist's mecca, boasting the claim at having the highest primate densities in the world, including nocturnal, the rare and the hauntingly-human-like chimpanzees. Some of the primate species found in this national park include: the Olive Baboon, Red Colobus Monkey, Angolan colobus, Black and white colobus, red-tailed monkeys, Bush babies, Galagoes and of course the only Great Ape in the Park, the Chimpanzee. According to the last and very recent survey of the park area, the protected area claims to have nearly 1400 of these magnificent creatures and 5 groups habituated to human contact. The park also has the largest concentration of forest elephants in Uganda- although these creatures are avoided due to their aggressive nature.

Walking down the roads had proven to be a fruitful (and cheap) way to view wildlife. Walking south from Lake Nyabikere we had seen numerous bird species, a young Forest Cobra, a beautiful array of butterflies and witnessed (mostly heard) a very nervous group of Red-tailed monkeys crossing the road, via arboreal-acrobatic leaps, to avoid the hoots and warning calls of a rather large group of chimpanzees. There really was something for these nimble monkeys to be nervous about: chimpanzees are known to hunt and eat monkeys. It was an amazing thing to witness, the monkeys leaping 12-15 feet across the dirt road we were standing on to the tones of chimpanzees under the forest floor. We never caught a glimpse of the apes, just the effect of their antics on the much smaller red-tails and those all-familiar hoots of our closest primate kin. We also saw tracks indicating a road crossing, the divergent toes of the chimpanzees caked in the clay-mud and heard their voices. Would we be lucky enough to observe these apes in the wild? Would they elude us like they had been eluding other visitors recently? I was very tentative and nervous about our chances. Ben kept asking, "Excited for tomorrow? Ready to see chimpanzees in their natural habitat?" I was nervous. This is not a zoo and the natural conditions in the dense forest combined with the movements of the chimps can lead to disappointment. Recently,the park guards told us the day we arrived, the chimps have been elusive, sparsely placed and traveling in very small sub-groups due to late season rains and subsequent late fruiting of the fig trees that the chimpanzees commonly visit for feeding, grooming, socialization, mating, playing and just plan hanging out with the family. We were lucky, the guards said, just last week these trees took to late ripening and the chimps were once again feeding.

We pitched our tent in the park's campsite and quickly took note that while visitors flock to see the large charismatic animals of the parks, the monkeys and chimps at which we view through curious antics of familiar kinship, it is the much smaller inhabitants of the forest that probably rule the forest. I am talking of the supreme architects, extremely social, exceptionally strong in both numbers and physical design - the omnipresent ANTS. They were amazing, I had a strong respect for the our first day as a large, I mean LARGE and in charge, procession cut through the road in droves, with all the supreme organization that only the ants can muster. Not a single individual out of line, the soldiers, the workers- all followed their unified goal and not one questioned their place in the moving mass. As I took photographs I became aware that the commonly called "soldier ants," with massive mandibles, somehow where aware of my presents and began to break rank moving in my direction. They were phenomenal, I thought in admiration, of these supremely adapted creatures. My admiration faltered quickly as Ben and I fought for the next two days to keep them out of our tent and from under our clothes. This was not an easy task and as whimsically tried to pick one off my trousers it bit my finger, drawing blood, and sent me swearing across the grass. They are persistent, even as I removed the body from the head the mandibles held on. In short, no more than twice where Ben and I sent in frenzy, slapping our pants away from these creatures. With the warfare on, we abandoned one of the entrances to our tent, doused the outside and inside with insect repellent (resorting to chemical warfare), crossed our fingers and were pleasantly relieved when the newly arrived (and rather upscale) Dutch campers began the loud-stomping and assumed swearing, in foreign tones, several hours later. Between ants and men: humans find it hard to win the battle let alone the war.

Our chimp-trekking rendezvous arrived, much anticipated, and we followed our park guide and a family of four into the forest. This was by no means a rough hike in the woods, the paths were well worn, occasional trees labeled with English common and scientific names and our guard had a radio by which he kept in contact with base and other trekkers. The forest appeared to be rather mature, undergrowth subdued by a long closed canopies, with large trees with a bit of girth. They also had an unknown fungal infection spreading among many of the larger trees. The guard told our group of the policy of non-interference with such natural orders and yet they are a bit concerned and are now keeping track of the infection rates and spatial movements. While we didn't see any forest elephants, we certainly found enough our their rather large scat and our guard told us that if we see the elephants under no circumstances our we to move towards them or even linger to view, standard protocol: get the as far away as fast as you can and if you can keep up with the guard... all the better.

Walking, walking, walking... and the forest is much quieter than the day that we were on the road listening to the hoots and alarm calls of the chimps and red tailed monkeys. Our group came across a troop of olive baboons. This is a primate species that we had seen several times, second only to the vervet monkeys which are even found in urban centers, and yet the seemed a bit more magnificent and noble in the forest. Several times we had seen them in Kenya, once digging through a rubbish-cage (obviously not working) in Masai Mara Reserve, they were always in the arid shrub lands. Here in Kibale they looked massive compared to those dwelling in the open savanna and we also noticed they looked demographically like a much more stable group, with more adults and less subadults than some of the ones in the savanna. The male was huge (or maybe felt so much larger in the absence of the a protective safari vehicle). We heard, smelled and saw the cautious Black & white colobus monkeys high above in the canopy. I say smelled because being possessing a ruminant stomach and subsisting on almost a completely leafy diet...they have a bit of a fermenting methane smell. I would call them cautious because they are certainly not habituated to humans and for good reason, the former King of the Toro people of Uganda often requested numerous tribal dancers to perform wearing the skins of this long haired monkey (with black and white hair...obviously). Where were the chimps? And then through the undergrowth, a large swarthy creature moved cautiously away from the bipedal encroachers. Then another dark figure, with the accompanied low grunts moved away. It was two males, patrols, our guide informed us. We followed. Our guide immediately set foot to a large fig tree nearby and within the lofty branches were a large group of chimpanzees: males, females, juveniles and infants all enjoying the late ripening of the fig fruit in their forest home.

Fortuitously this was the largest habituated group in Kibale National Park. We watched as many of the individuals, easily 30-40 feet high in this massive tree, stuffed their mouths to comically full proportions with the sweet fruit, laboring to chew and then spitting out the seeds and core. I could have watched forever. A female with small clinging infant passed over head, the small pink foot contrasting against the dark hair of its mother. Noise broke out a bit above, sounds of a temper tantrum if you will, and we witnessed a male and female mating in the branches. The female's weaned youngster was crying and hitting the much larger male for what he must of considered an unthinkable offense. I had read about this many times, juveniles are never happy when their mothers re-enter estrus for the first time(and the subsequent "dating" that goes with this) but the males are generally very patient and pay no mind the interruption. Now I have seen this with my own eyes, this and many other behaviors all right here in the fig tree. Mating, grooming, eating, urinating, defecating, the hungry "food grunts" and socializing. We soon set off to follow the two adult males which were on the ground in the vicinity of their social group. It was hard to pull myself from the fig tree...I could watch them all day, figuring out dominance structures, relationships and such. The males proved to be uneasy about our following, although we did get within about 15 feet of these amazing creatures. They would stop, maybe groom each other or relax and then as if the stench or site of us would rub them wrong, they were off again. Never very quickly, save for once when we were treated to a small "display," always in a controlled manor and pace when allowed us to follow. Once the older male, the guide saying about 35 years old, stopped lounged out and groomed himself a bit, crossed his legs, stole a couple minute nap and then got up and left again. We returned to the fig tree and were allowed to just watch, listen and observe. It was one of the most amazing hours I have spent here in East Africa. That night Ben and I went to the restaurant at the lodge, had a good meal and feeling elated, looked through our photos and talked about the experience and had a couple of East Africa's pleasant bottled brews.

The next day we headed to Bigodi Wetland Sanctuary, a community based project which ironically was started with the help of a former Peace Corps Volunteer, which is about 6 kilometers south of Kibale National Park. Once again the walk proved to be as exciting as the park itself and evidence that wildlife does not respect human made boundaries was everywhere. An elephant group crossing across the road is hard to miss, even if they are long gone, the footprints are unmistakable and the vegetation was a bit "disturbed" on either side of the road. We also enjoyed a bit of bird viewing, looking at the hanging nest the Weaver birds make in the trees and laughing at how a few densely inhabited trees looked a bit like Christmas trees with Weaver "bulbs." We saw a beautiful Pygmy Kingfisher and a group of rare Red-colobus monkeys dining on introduced Eucalyptus trees (which locals said they like to become drunk on). The mud and stick houses, with nicely manicured yards of flower and fruit trees, break the monotony of otherwise green expanses of agricultural hills in the area. After a meal of matoke (smashed cooked bananas) and beef stew at the nearby village we headed into the reserve with a local guide.

The Bigodi Wetland Sanctuary is protected the remnants of the once mighty Magombe Swamp and with over 137 bird species in the area, including the beautiful Blue touraco, Ben was in binocular heaven. Our guide was very knowledgeable and she knew most birds by song or the quick glimpses as they soared through the wooded wetland.

The Magombe swamp is facing a good deal of pressure by the surrounding agricultural matrix an the protected area is essential to the conservation of the small remaining land as this project directly benefits the community through the entry fees as well as employment of guides and guards. We were unable to find out much about the management plan, other than there is a committee and group of elders that enforces regulations as well as the fact that the villagers are allowed some extractive uses. For instance, women use the reeds and stalks from the Papyrus plant to weave local baskets and make thatch for houses. Many areas which we went through was purely agricultural on one side and protected and wooded on the other, there was no buffer zone at all. Also there were children throughout the small reserve trying to sell small clay figurines of the Blue touraco and chimpanzee. Our guide also told us that the colobus monkeys found in Kibale are also venturing into Bigodi, which indicates they are currently able to migrate between the nearly 6 kilometers of unprotected environment to utilize both reserves.

In the end we did see nearly 40 different species of birds in this small reserve, including the beautiful Blue touraco, and a Black and white colobus monkey. The touracos were hanging around the agricultural edge, cows to their west and the thick reeds and waterlogged forest to the east. They are a brilliant blue, the failing light however allowed me only a silhouette to share with you, and I figure this a metaphor for the numerous things here in Africa that are more brilliant than the pixels of a camera or the limit of a language can capture.

-Jessica